Livin' On A Prayer
by Gridmaster
Summary: Bon Jovi again. This is my take on Tommy and David's backstory.


#  _Livin' on a Prayer_

_Author's Note: the lyrics here are by Jon Bon Jovi, compiled from both "Livin' on a Prayer" and "Prayer '94"._   
_This fic has a very loose tie-in to my Turbo universe fics._   
**_Warning: parts of this fic may be offensive to some readers_**   


* * *

  
_Once upon a time, not so long ago..._

_Tommy used to work on the docks._   
_Union's been on strike,_   
_been down on his luck,_   
_it's tough, so tough_

Thomas Blackfoot looked out the barred window towards San Francisco Bay. Behind him, he heard the rhythmic breathing of Ginny, his four-year-old daughter, who had finally given in to her father's order for naptime. He could see the child's reflection in the window, her tiny chest rising and falling as she slept on the couch.   
He, his wife Gina, and their daughter had moved here from Seattle not long after Ginny was born. His mother hadn't taken well to Gina, and her family wasn't too enamored of him. They'd hoped Ginny would heal the rift, but unfortunately, neither set of grandparents had been pleased.   
"Why couldn't you find a nice Indian girl!" his mother had screamed. "What's wrong with the reservation girls? I don't want you bringing that--that--_woman_ around here! All I wanted for you was a nice Indian girl who would give me plenty of grandbabies. Instead, you have to go sniffing around that Italian's skirts, and my grandbabies are going to be half-breed bastards!"   
Thomas had held Gina tight that night as she cried. No matter what his mother thought, he loved Gina. _And you can't help who you fall in love with_, he thought, turning to look at the framed wedding photo above the couch.   
Gina's father, a large, second-generation Italian-American, had taken one look at Thomas's skin and long black braid and threatened to disown Gina. "Your mamma, she wants you to find a nice Italian man and have lots of bouncing babies for her. This--this--_Injun_, he'd give your poor mamma a heart attack. You don't want your babies to be half-breeds."   
Thomas turned to look at his sleeping daughter, at her skin the color rich Beverly Hills women paid fortunes to achieve artificially, her glossy black ringlets--from Gina's side; his own hair was straight as a stallion's mane, thought of her eyes the color of chocolate, and wondered why anyone would hate her simply because of who--_what_--her parents were. 

_Gina works the diner all day._   
_Working for her man,_   
_She brings home her pay_   
_for love, for love_

"A lousy two-fifty," Gina Sorentino-Blackfoot muttered as she deposited her line-cook paycheck in the joint bank account she shared with Thomas. "Like that's gonna last us through till next payday." She wrote the amount in the checkbook, blowing air through her teeth as she thought of the expenses. Food, new shoes for Ginny--the kid grew like a weed, rent, electric, water, phone, insurance...and the new expense she'd just found out about today.   
"Thomas! Care to help me with the groceries?" she called out, unlocking the apartment door.   
"Mommy!" Gina felt her daughter attack her legs.   
"Hey, cutie." She ruffled Ginny's thick black curls. Thomas joined them in the doorway, kissing his wife as he relieved her of her grocery bag.   
"How many more?"   
"About three. Have you heard back from the docks yet?"   
"Mmm." He disappeared into the kitchen, then came out empty-handed. "I called the union rep; they're still negotiating that contract. It doesn't look good, though."   
"Maybe you should start looking for other work. They're talking pay cuts at the diner, and I might not be able to work there in a few months."   
"Why's that?" Thomas ducked out the door and came back in carrying two grocery bags.   
"I went to the doctor about my flu today."   
"Oh?"   
"It's not flu." She stood next to Thomas, sliding her hands around his waist. "I'm pregnant." 

_She says we've gotta hold on to what we've got._   
_It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not._   
_We've got each other, and that's a lot._   
_For love, we'll give it a shot_

Thomas wiped his brow as he took a long swallow from the icy water bottle. The lumberyard was hard, hot, sweaty work, but it paid. Not as much as the docks did, but then, the docks weren't paying anything right now. He squinted, trying to see the yard clock through the summer haze. Only three more hours to go.   
He closed his eyes and poured about half the bottle's contents over his head, shuddering as the cold rivulets ran down his overheated skin. Gina had heard about the lumberyard openings and prodded him to apply there.   
"It's a union job, Thomas. And their union isn't as temperamental as the dockworkers'. We need the money." She looked at him, her dark eyes pleading.   
"I'll go down tomorrow," he promised her, folding her newly-lush pregnant figure in his arms.   
_And here I am_, he thought. _Three months' on at the yard, with summer bonus just around the corner. We just might make it._ Gina had kept working at the diner until he urged her to take her leave. She would come home, ankles so swollen and sore she could just barely stand up. Now, she stayed home with Ginny while he went to the lumberyard. The one paycheck, though, wasn't going to be enough to cover expenses once the new baby came.   
_Maybe I can work double shifts, or get a second job. Once the baby's old enough to be left with a sitter, Gina can go back to the diner. We can make this work._

_Oh, we're halfway there,_   
_Oh, living on a prayer._   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear._   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_   


* * *

  
_Tommy's got his six-string in hock._   
_Now he's holding in_   
_what he used to make it talk,_   
_So tough, mm, it's tough_

"Thomas? Where's your guitar?" Gina asked from the bed. Thomas had his ear next to her navel, trying to hear the baby's heartbeat.   
"Hmm? Oh, my guitar." He shifted his weight so he could listen lower on her stomach. "I hadn't used it in a while, so..."   
"So..?"   
"I sold it." He shifted again. "This one isn't as active as Ginny was."   
"No, he isn't. You sold your guitar?"   
"Mm-hmm. I haven't played it in a while, so I figured it'd be worth something, and it was." He stroked her belly. "Hey, baby...."   
She smiled and flinched as his fingers ran across a sensitive spot. "Thomas, you loved that guitar. You said it was your father's."   
"It was."   
"It was the only thing you had to remind you of him."   
"No it wasn't." He looked up, his soft brown eyes meeting hers. "He still lives in my heart. The guitar was just a possession. My memories are priceless."   
"Oh, Thomas..." 

_Gina dreams of running away._   
_When she cries every night_   
_Tommy whispers_   
_"Baby, it's okay, someday..."_

Gina sat silently in the car as Thomas drove. Twins. Two. Two babies. Her mind whirled as she tried to comprehend this fact. Two babies. Two babies. Twice as many diapers, twice as much formula, two, two, two.   
Thomas cast silent glances towards his wife every now and then. Her silence scared him. It meant she was worried. "Gina..." he started, then stopped as she turned pained eyes on him.   
"Twins, Thomas. Two." She turned back towards the window. "One we could handle. But two?"   
"Gina, we can handle this. The doctor said it's good for twins to share a bed to begin with, so we're okay on the crib. We can save money on formula if you nurse..."   
"Two..."   
"Diapers, we can manage. As for other things..." he flicked on the turn signal and neatly slid the car onto the exit ramp, "as for other things, there are always programs..."   
"You mean welfare," she spit out.   
"No, I mean WiC."   
"It's the same thing."   
"Gina, it is not, and you know it. A lot of women are on WiC."   
"I don't want government _charity_." Her tone was bitter as she spit out the word.   
"Gina..."   
"How are we going to do this?" she asked, her eyes threatening to spill over. "Two babies, Thomas. Two."   
He sighed as he parked the car on the street by their apartment building. "We'll get through this, Gina. We always do." 

_She says we've gotta hold on to what we've got._   
_It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not._   
_We've got each other, and that's a lot._   
_For love, we'll give it a shot_

Gina sat back in her hospital bed, half-listening to the nurse telling her the "proper" ways to nurse twins. _Identical boys,_ she thought. Hair as dark as their father's, eyes that were the color of strong coffee. Strong boys, they had to be. And both so serene....the older one, Thomas Junior, or Tommy, was quieter than his ten-minute-younger brother, David, who despite being born second, had a half-pound on Tommy. She cradled them in her arms, glad the pregnancy was over, but at the same time wondering how much longer their small apartment would hold all five of her family.   
_My family,_ she thought, smiling as the door to her recovery room opened to admit Thomas and Ginny. _We're going to make this work._

_Oh, we're halfway there,_   
_Oh, living on a prayer._   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear._   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_   


* * *

  
_Livin' on a prayer_   
_Ooh, we've gotta hold on, ready or not._   
_You live for the fight_   
_when that's all that you've got_

"We're goin' on strike." Thomas heard those words with dread. The yard's union leader was pounding his fist on the table, demanding attention. "The machinery in the yard is old, rusted. One of these days, it's gonna go, and we'll be the ones in danger. I say we strike for new equipment."   
"You're nuts," a man in the back hollered. "We've got it good here. The machinery is still in good working order."   
"I agree," Thomas chimed in. "I have a family to think of, a wife, a daughter, twin sons. I can't afford to go on strike now."   
The union leader stood up and backed out of the room to the protests of the men inside. "You just watch, and when that rigging goes, don't say I didn't warn you." 

_Oh, we're halfway there_   
_Oh, living on a prayer_   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear_   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_

Thomas grunted as he gave the winch a pull and watched the load of pine rise into the sky. He continued to the next pile, thinking about quitting time, going home and seeing his family. Gina was back working at the diner; the boys were getting bigger by the day. Ginny'd be starting kindergarten in the fall. He smiled, thinking of sending his little girl in pigtails to the school bus.   
"Thomas! Watch out!"   
He didn't see the load of pine he'd just sent up break free from the rigging. The last thought in his mind was,_ Oh, God. Gina..._

_Oh, we're halfway there_   
_Oh, living on a prayer_   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear_   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_

Gina sat on the couch, numbly holding her boys while Ginny leaned against her. _He's gone. _ She held her babies, all three of them, closer to her. Ginny whimpered, snuggling to fit tighter against her mother. _He's gone. He's left me alone with our family. Oh, Thomas..._   
David snuffled and reached out to grab the gold rosary Gina clutched in her fist. _Where am I going to go? How are we going to live? I can't support three children on a line-cook's wages..._   
The phone rang; mechanically, she reached out to answer it.   
"Gina Sorentino-Blackfoot?" an unfamiliar voice asked.   
"Yes?"   
"My name is Samuel Trueheart. I am your husband's grandfather."   
"Thomas is gone."   
"I know." The voice was calm, soothing..._like Thomas's._   
"Why are you calling, Mr. Trueheart?"   
"I am family."   
Gina suppressed a bitter, choking laugh. "That never seemed to matter before."   
"It has always mattered. Thomas's mother, my daughter, she was...different from the rest of us. When Thomas's father passed on, she became bitter and resentful of anything she perceived as a threat to her family." The man sighed deeply. "Gina, granddaughter, I want you and your children to come visit me."   
"Where do you live?"   
"I am at the Stone Canyon Reservation."   
Gina sat back, aware of Ginny leaning on her arm. She looked around the apartment, full of memories of Thomas, of the two of them together. Heard his laughter from the bedroom, smelled his shampoo from the bathroom.... "I'll be there in two days." 

_Oh, we're halfway there_   
_Oh, living on a prayer_   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear_   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_

Gina strapped the children into their car seats in the back of her battered Pinto, Ginny in the middle, David and Tommy on either side. "We're going to visit a friend," she told them. With one backward glance, she drove away from San Francisco, headed toward Stone Canyon--and a new life. 

The freeway was empty this time of night. Gina was on her eleventh black coffee. Ginny, David and Tommy had all fallen asleep hours ago. The radio was playing Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive," and Gina was tapping her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. She took another swallow of coffee, the hot liquid burning down her throat. The dotted line was blurring in her vision. Gina scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, blinking to bring the line back into focus. _ I should pull over and rest, _she thought. _ But we don't have the money for a motel; Thomas's funeral wiped out our savings._ She took another swallow of coffee and kept driving.   
  
The sun was just starting to appear over the horizon. Gina pulled the Pinto into a truck stop. "You three be good; Mommy'll be right back with breakfast," she told the children. She dug through her purse for a few crumpled dollar bills. Inside, she bought another black coffee and an orange juice for Ginny. Counting her change, she also bought two blueberry muffins.   
She bit into her muffin the way back to the car. _I'll just nurse the boys, then get back on the road._ Gina gave Ginny her juice and muffin, then loosened her blouse to nurse David and Tommy. Half an hour later, she was back on the freeway.   
Stone Canyon, 30 Miles.   
Gina yawned as the sign flashed by. Traffic was heavier now; several eighteen-wheelers had thundered past her in the past half hour. _I'm almost out of gas,_ she noted. _Next exit, I'll pull off_. She yawned again, quickly pulling her car back into the lane before another truck blazed past.   
_ Maybe I'll rest for a bit, too._

Half an hour later, Gina was still on the road. She'd rested for a few minutes at the gas station, but was eager to get back on the road. Stone Canyon wasn't too far away. She pressed the accelerator and yawned again. She blinked several times, trying to get her bearings straight. _Not now, not now. _ She poked herself in the thigh, trying to keep her eyes open. It wasn't working. Her eyelids drooped; she was startled awake by the blaring of a semi's air horn. Her eyelids flew open to find her small Pinto hurtling towards an eighteen-wheeler... 

_Oh, we're halfway there_   
_Oh, living on a prayer_   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear_   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_ __

Samuel Trueheart stepped out of the pickup truck. "Mr. Trueheart?" a uniformed state trooper asked.   
"Yes. How is my granddaughter?"   
"Mrs. Blackfoot has been taken to Santa Maria del Mar, in Stone Canyon. Her injuries were severe, though..."   
"The children?"   
"Remarkably, the three children are in good condition. They were all in child seats in the rear seat, and only have a few scrapes. They're pretty shaken, though, especially the oldest."   
"Where are they?"   
"They're back at the station. Follow me." 

Samuel held the two infants in his arms. Gina was still in the hospital, machines clicking away the increments of her life. The social worker stood behind Samuel.   
"Mr. Trueheart..."   
"I'm thinking." He looked at the two boys, at Ginny sitting on a bench morosely kicking her heels. "These children are my only family. I can't decide right away."   
"I understand." She touched his arm. Call me when you reach a decision."   
"I will."   
Samuel entered Gina's room. He had called in every favor he was owed to insure she had a private room and the best care. The doctors weren't hopeful, though. She had severe trauma from the accident, and even if she awoke from her coma, she wasn't guaranteed to be mentally whole.   
"Granddaughter," he whispered, touching a clear spot on her arm. "I pray to the spirits, that one of them will take you under his wing and restore you to this world. Your children need their mother now more than ever. I am an old man; I can not look after all of them. The social workers, they want me to take power of attorney, to give your children to the winds. It will pain me to do this."   
The respirator beeped steadily; Gina's chest rose and fell with the even, artificial breath.   
Samuel closed his eyes. "I can keep one of your children, Granddaughter. I can train him or her in our ways. The other two...either way, the twins will be separated. Twins should not be; they have an otherworldly bond that no one of this world should take away from them." He stood back. "But I trust that bond will bring them together later in life. Twins always find a way." He pressed his fingertips to his lips, then to her forehead. "May the spirits protect you, Granddaughter of my Heart." 

Samuel sat with the three children in his lodge. Ginny's dark eyes were wide, watching her great-grandfather assemble his tools. He lit a fire in the center of the lodge, and chanted an invocation to the spirits.   
He passed his hand first over Tommy's face. "You will be special, Son of Falcon."   
Then, he passed his hand over Gina's head, her eyes bright. "You have your own path to walk, Daughter of Bear."   
Finally, he passed his hand over David. "You...you are the one, Son of Wolf." The old man closed his eyes, visualizing the great spirits that protected his great-grandchildren. "You are the one." 

Samuel Trueheart signed the papers. Gina Sorentino-Blackfoot had been in a coma for nearly a month. Tommy Blackfoot and Ginvieve "Ginny" Blackfoot became wards of the state. David Blackfoot was adopted by his great-grandfather and became David Trueheart.   
Tommy was adopted almost immediately by James and Patricia Oliver of Los Angeles. Ginny was adopted after a few years by her foster-family, Charles and Meghan Monroe of Angel Grove, and her name was changed to Gina. 

* * *

_Oh, we're halfway there_   
_Oh, living on a prayer_   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear_   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_ __

"David, do you ever wonder about our birth parents?" Tommy asked. The reunited brothers sat on the cliffs in the reservation.   
"I used to. Grandfather has a picture of them. He showed it to me not long before you and I found each other."   
"I'd like to see it." 

Tommy held the picture gingerly. _So these are my parents... _ He gazed at the people in the picture, the man in a dark suit and tie, the woman in a simple white dress. He could see some of himself in the man: the nose, for instance, and the chin. But the eyes...those were hers.   
"Do you know what happened?"   
"Our father was killed in a lumberyard accident. Our mother...she's still alive."   
"She is?" Tommy nearly dropped the framed picture. "Where is she? Have you seen her?"   
"I go to visit her almost every week. She's in Stone Canyon."   
"I can't believe this." Tommy sank onto the couch. "She's so close."   
"Tommy, there's something you should know about our mother. She's...she's not well."   
"What do you mean?"   
"The reason she gave us up was...she was in an accident." 

Tommy peered through the doorway at the woman in the room. Her long curly black hair was streaked with grey; Tommy could still see traces of the woman in the photograph.   
"Will she hear us?"   
"She will. But she may not respond." David touched his brother's shoulder. "Her mind isn't all there. She was in a coma for a long time, Tommy."   
"I have to talk to her."   
Tommy kneeled by the woman in the rocking chair. "Mother," he whispered.   
Gina's head turned slightly towards him. "Thomas?" she whispered. "Thomas?"   
"No, mother. Tommy. Your son."   
"I have two sons. They're babies."   
"Mother, we're grown now. David and I, we're grown up. We found each other, mother."   
"Baby girl..."   
Tommy looked up at David, who shrugged. "This is the first time she's said anything about a girl."   
"Baby Ginny..."   
"Tommy, maybe we should come back some other time."   
"Maybe." Tommy stood up, smoothing Gina's hair. On a sudden impulse, he bent and kissed her cheek. "Goodbye, mother."   
"Thomas..." 

"Do you think we could have a sister?" Tommy paced back and forth in the Truehearts' living room.   
"Grandfather never said anything about it. But then, he never mentioned you until I was sixteen. He might be waiting for the right time."   
Just then, Tommy's communicator went off. "Damn. Divatox again, I'll bet," he muttered. "If he says anything, let me know." 

"Hey, guys." Justin joined the group at the juice bar. "What's up?"   
"Just! Don't forget, five o'clock sharp!" a black-haired female called out.   
"I won't forget, Gina. Jeezoman, I'm late _ one_ day and she thinks I have a memory problem." Justin shook his head.   
"Gina?" Tommy turned his head to see who Justin was talking to. A tall, tan, shapely woman of about twenty-one was just leaving the juice bar.   
"Yeah, Gina Monroe. One of the shelter workers." Justin took advantage of Tommy's distraction to sneak a slurp from his smoothie. "I think she's got a boyfriend, though."   
"What? Oh, no. I just thought...she seemed familiar." 

"Dave, speak to me."   
"It wasn't easy, but he admitted that we had an older sister. Ginvieve, called Ginny by our parents, four years older than us. She was given up for adoption, too."   
"Does he know who adopted her?"   
"No, unfortunately. He managed to keep track of her when she was in foster care, but once she was adopted... He has the address of her last foster parents, though. A Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, in Angel Grove."   
"Monroe?" Tommy thought of the shelter worker with Justin that morning. "David, I think I know something..." 

"No way," Justin breathed. Tommy and David sat across from him at the juice bar. "Gina? You really think so?"   
"She's the right age," David said.   
"And she looked a lot like our mother did in the photo," Tommy added.   
"Gina never said nothing about being adopted."   
"It's not the sort of thing you casually mention in conversation."   
"I guess not." Justin pushed his plate of cheese fries away. "Wow, I guess it's true what they say about mysterious ways."   
"Yeah. Think of it, an evil robot from another galaxy was the catalyst for us finding our family again," Tommy said with a grin.   
"Yo, Just! The car's running!"   
Tommy and David both turned to see the speaker. Gina stood there, her hands on her denim-clad hips, a pair of mirrored sunglasses pushed back on her head, holding back her shoulder-length black hair.   
"Uh, just a minute, Gina. Um, um...wanna finish off these cheese fries with me?" Justin offered, gesturing toward the half-empty plate.   
"Sure, half-pint," she said affectionately, tousling his hair as she straddled the empty chair next to him. "Who're your friends?"   
"This is Tommy Oliver, and his long-lost brother, David Trueheart."   
"Long-lost?" Gina squinted at Tommy and David.   
"Yeah, it's really a cool story, Gina. Turns out Tommy and David were twins, separated at birth. David was raised by their great-grandfather, and Tommy was adopted by the Olivers."   
"Sounds fascinating." Gina picked up a fry and twirled it in the puddle of cheese. "Almost every kid at that shelter dreams about finding out they have a brother or sister, or a whole family, even, that they never knew. You two are living that dream."   
"Not fully," David said. "We just found out that we have an older sister somewhere." He ignored Tommy's prodding. "Her name was Ginvieve."   
"Really? Hmm. That's odd."   
"What's odd?" Justin asked, turning an innocent expression on Tommy and David.   
"My full name is Ginvieve. But my adopted parents just always called me Gina."   
"Maybe..." Tommy hesitated. "Did they tell you anything about your background?"   
"Just that my mother was in a car accident when I was four or five, and that my father died not long before that."   
"Gina, maybe..." David hesitated this time. "Do you remember anyone, ever, calling you Ginny?"   
Gina looked into David's eyes. "How would you...yes. I have one memory that keeps coming back to me, usually when I'm dreaming. A tall man, with a long black braid and really tan skin holds me close and calls me 'Ginny-girl'. I always feel very safe when I have that dream, and when I wake up, I always have a sense of loss that takes a while to get over."   
Tommy and David exchanged another glance, then Tommy reached under his shirt. "Gina, do you recognize this at all?" He handed her an arrowhead on a leather thong.   
She accepted it, cradling it in her palms. "Oh God...the man, the one in my dreams, he's wearing something almost identical to this!"   
"Gina, if you have time, we'd like you to come to the Stone Canyon reservation sometime."   
"I think I will." 

Samuel Trueheart entered the living room, leaning heavily on his walking stick. "So...my three great-grandchildren have reunited at last," he murmured, looking from David to Tommy to Gina. He took the wedding photo down from the mantle with shaky hands and handed it to Gina. "Your parents loved you very much, Daughter of Bear."   
Gina looked up. "Daughter of..."   
"When you were young, before I had to give you up, I read your spirit line. The great bear watches over you."   
Gina involuntarily touched her calf, where she had a tattoo of a bear print. She then turned her attention to the wedding photo.   
"You look a lot like our mother," Tommy told her.   
"This is almost too much. I go from being an only child, and an adopted one at that, to finding out that I have twin younger brothers and a great grandfather who's a shaman...."   
"Well, it's like they say, 'This _is_ Angel Grove'," Tommy quipped.   
"And there's more." 

Gina, Tommy and David kneeled around their mother's chair. "Mother...Mama..." Gina started. "This is so hard...I have vague memories of her, of a strong Mama. Seeing her like this...I don't know if I can do it."   
"It's okay," Tommy said. "I don't remember her at all, but sometimes...I feel like I have a bond to her."   
"She's our mother." David touched the older Gina's arm. "Mother, we're all here. Your three children; we've found each other."   
"The twins found me, Mama," Gina whispered, gently brushing her hand along her mother's greying curls.   
"My babies," the older Gina murmured. "My babies, where are they?"   
"We're here, Mama. We're all here. Tommy, and David, and me, Gi--Ginny." Tears were starting to form in Gina's eyes. "We're right here, Mama."   
"My babies..." The older Gina reached out a hand to brush it along her daughter's hair, in a movement mirroring what her daughter had just done. "My baby girl, my baby Ginny..."   
"Yes, Mama, it's Ginny. I'm all grown up now, Mama. I'm in college. I'll be graduating next year. You'd be so proud of me, Mama, I'm going to be a social worker. I'm going to help other children who've lost their mothers and fathers." She clasped her mother's hand to her cheek, holding it in her own hand. "Mama, I wish you were better. I missed you so much those first few years. I wish.." her voice cracked as her tears started falling. "Oh, Mama."   
Tommy and David hung back, watching their sister cry, her head on their mother's lap. The older Gina just kept stroking her daughter's hair, her eyes starting to fog over. Tommy stepped closer and tapped his sister's shoulder.   
"We should probably be going," he whispered. "The nurses are going to start glaring soon."   
Gina let go of her mother's hand and stood straight, wiping the back of her hand against her eyes. "Okay. I'm ready." 

_Oh, we're halfway there_   
_Oh, living on a prayer_   
_Take my hand; we'll make it I swear_   
_Whoa, livin' on a prayer_

* * *


End file.
